


The Shepherdess & The Wendigo

by Asherini



Series: Charlastor Week 2021 [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Charlastor Week, Deer Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, How Do I Tag, Implied Sexual Content, Protective Charlie, Wendigo, human!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asherini/pseuds/Asherini
Summary: A beautiful shepherdess encounters a curious stag in the middle of a blizzard. Is he more than he seems?
Relationships: Alastor & Charlie Magne, Alastor/Charlie Magne
Series: Charlastor Week 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198430
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	The Shepherdess & The Wendigo

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 Prompt: Protection 🛡 
> 
> I do not own any rights to Hazbin Hotel or its characters.

Deep in the snowcapped mountains lay a small village. Sheltered as it was from the outside world, those that dwelled there had become hardy, self-sufficient folk, albeit with peculiar, old-fashioned customs. In the dense pinewood forest surrounding the little hamlet, the daughter of the magistrate walked, beleaguered but determined, picking her way through the thick snow. Golden-haired and dark-eyed, she was well revered by the township for her beauty and kindness. To her fell the responsibility of keeping the deer, the stout creatures who helped pull their sleighs and served as their beasts of burden. And it was to that duty she pushed herself through the forest to feed and water her Cervidae companions.

In truth, she treated them like pets and, in so doing, garnered their unending love and loyalty; so much so, that they suffered no other human to care for them. So it was that, when she made it to the clearing where their stables and pens were kept, all of them bounded eagerly over to greet their mistress. Her laughter was like music, and she lavished them in praise and adoration, taking special care to rub them each behind the ears while passing out their treats. Every day, without fail, she went to care for her herd, the devout shepherdess going as far as to make a room for herself within the paddocks for when it was too dangerous to make the trek back to her home.

One day, when the winter winds were particularly sharp and a blizzard waged war on the earth, she gathered her precious animals to her in the corrals, warming them with hay and a small fire in the stone oven. Dutifully, she counted as they entered, unwilling to rest until they were all within the safety of their shelter. Upon realizing one fawn was missing, she bundled herself up in her warm scarf, hat, and coat, and set out in search of the young one.

It was like trying to see through a sheet of pure white, the elements fighting her at every turn, and she stumbled several times. Almost at her breaking point, she finally found the baby, near ice cold and cowering against a tree. Collecting it quickly, she began the journey back, breaking through the storm through sheer force of will, the feeling in her limbs lost long ago. One foot in front of the other she forged ahead until the wooden gate finally came into view.

Next to the gate there was something she did not expect; what it was she could not say for sure, but appeared to be a dead carcass of a large animal, so caked was it with a deep bloodred. Tending to her flock first, she swiftly delivered the fawn into the pen with the others before venturing out again to inspect the creature. Falling to her knees beside it, her mittened hands ran along its body to clear it from snow. Underneath, she discovered it was a buck; large and magnificent with an impressive rack and strong body. But it was unlike any stag she had ever seen. What she had initially mistook for blood was simply the color of its fur and its rack and hooves were the color of deep onyx. Bowing low to the ground, her ear to its chest, she felt a slow beat and, without further hesitation, and monumental effort, she hauled the deer into the enclosure with the others.

Locking the door behind them, she immediately set to work, boiling water for her dinner, fetching oats and fruits for her pets, and pulling down blankets to further keep them cozy. To the new buck and shivering fawn she gave most of her attention, taking special care to nurse them until they were no longer frigid to the touch and their breathing steadied. For the most part, the rest of her herd ignored the newcomer, too busy huddling close to the stove and into their blankets to care.

Midway through her dinner, the stag finally came to, raising its large head as eyes of obsidian slowly looked about the paddock, its gaze eventually settling on her. The shepherdess did not immediately notice, so engrossed was she in her meal and chatting happily to her hooved companions, and the animal’s movements were measured and regal, and did not attract attention. As she twisted to the side to set down her bowl, her doe eyes locked with his and widened.

“Oh! You’re awake!” Came her sweet, uplifting voice. “You must be hungry. Hold on, I saved you some.”

Gracefully she stood, collecting some grapes and bits of carrots into a wicker basket, then turned to the red deer. Unsure of its nature, she erred on the side of caution, taking slow steps, making sure it could see every move she made as to not startle the beast. Finally, she settled down in the hay next to the large buck, setting the offerings down in front of it. It did not eat, nor did it stir from its position, merely staring at her.

Reaching down, she picked up the fruit first, plucking a few ripe berries from the vine then holding them out. Its great head dipped to sniff at the food she presented, eyes still locked on her face, then its dark nose followed the line up her arm to the curve of her shoulder and then her throat and hair. The warm puffs of air against her sensitive flesh made her blush and giggle, a small hand coming to the side of its face to push it away.

“No, silly, I’m not on the menu. You’ll like these.” She popped a grape into her mouth to demonstrate, then placed one to its lips. “Try them.”

Seemingly satisfied with her demonstration, a long black tongue licked the tart berry into its mouth. As it bent its neck to eat the rest of the food, she ran a hand down its long neck. All the deer were taller than her, even her does, but this stag was massive and it easily towered over her, reminding her of when she had been a child and first entrusted with the care of the herd. The wine-colored coat was as soft as velvet and before she could stop herself, she leaned forward to nuzzle her cheek just under its jaw, sighing happily. For a breath, the buck had stilled in its meal, onyx eyes flicking back to look at her before turning its attention back to the food.

When it had finished, she put away the baskets scattered around, her dishes, and went around to tuck each animal in, placing a kiss atop every head as she put them to bed. Approaching the red buck with a thick blanket she smiled shyly, aware of how it had watched her intently ever since waking. As with the others, she took care to drape the blanket over its form, stroking his back first, but then hesitated. This was not one of her herd, technically, though she certainly wouldn’t send it away, but her self-consciousness got the best of her as she simply turned away. At the tug on her sleeve, she turned to see the stag had caught the fabric in its teeth, the deep pools of its eyes looking at her expectantly.

“You want a kiss too, huh?” It tossed its head once as if responding and she giggled softly.

Easily acquiescing, she held its large head in her two hands, the beast needing to decline its head and rest its nose between her breasts, as she placed her lips to its forehead. Turning, she began undressing in the warm glow of the wood stove, her back to her charges, hanging her coat and scarf to dry near the fire. At length, when she donned her thin night gown, she curved back to lower the blaze and noticed the stag staring as though hypnotized. The idea that the creature might be intelligent enough to realize she had been naked made her blush first at her indecent exposure, then again at her own silliness for having considered the notion at all.

Though the blizzard raged throughout the night, the blonde slept soundly and when dawn broke, she greeted it with happiness, gratefulness rushing through her at hearing that the storm had passed. Quickly she changed, ready to be about her chores. Gathering up the blankets, she shoveled the ashes from the stove, fetched water for the trough, and started raking the hay back into piles. By the time she opened the stall doors, the sun had had enough opportunity to melt enough snow so that the herd could graze. The animals eagerly sought the outdoors, giving the shepherdess time to clean up after them and it was only when she had collected her coat and scarf that she realized the red stag was still lying in the room.

Tilting her head, she went to it, stretching out a hand to scratch it behind the ears out of habit. It leaned into her touch, momentarily closing its eyes as it enjoyed her petting, then nudged a nose to his front left hoof. Kneeling to look closer, she gasped as she saw a cavernous gash alongside its joint. In the dark and against its already garnet coat, she hadn’t noticed the blood the evening prior. Hastily she moved about the space to various cabinets and closets, collecting first aid and healing materials to see to the wound. When she was finished, she had washed and bandaged his injury, layering ointment and medicinal herbs underneath the gauze to help expedite recovery.

Experimentally the buck put pressure on the leg, stumbling only a little as it successfully stood. She could only crane her head backward when it stood majestically in the pen, her head barely coming to its shoulder. It had to bend at the neck to exit the paddock, but once outside it stretched languidly in the light of day. She smiled warmly when it moved around the pasture, finally interacting with the rest of the herd.

“All right, my loves! Be good!” The shepherdess called as she closed the gate behind her, waving over her shoulder. “I will be back tomorrow!” She did not notice how the dark eyes of the red stag followed her with interest.

At home, she indulged in a soothing bath, and, dressing in a rich blue and yellow dirndl selected for her by her loving mother, set about town to collect a few things for her quadrupedal friends. She had just wrapped up her grocery shopping when she heard a familiar voice calling out her name.

“Charlotte, my girl! There you are!” Her father called, his booming, authoritative voice more than making up for his short stature.

“Daddy!” Spinning to his direction, she smiled as she ran to him, her dark eyes traveling behind him to where a tall man stood. Broad shouldered, slim, but not lanky, he was strikingly handsome, with dark brown hair and the most curious bloodred eyes. Smartly dressed in a brown suit and cotton white shirt, there were a few buttons left undone at the collar, exposing more of his caramel skin. His already smiling lips turned to a grin when he saw her.

“Been looking around forever, my sweet apple.” The magistrate cooed, leaning up to kiss her lovingly on the cheek. “I would like to introduce you to a new member of the village! His name is Alastor and I thought you could show him around for me.”

Obediently she fell into a smooth curtesy. “Of course, father. It’s very nice to meet you, Mister Alastor.”

A strong hand collected one of hers, bringing her back up as he bent low at the waist, pressing his lips to her knuckles. His eyes nearly glowed when he stood straight again. “It’s a pleasure, sweetheart. Quite a pleasure.” His voice was like a caress, deep and intimate, with an accent she didn’t recognize; the sound of it made her blush.

The rest of the afternoon, she diligently guided Alastor around their township, making sure to point out the important locations, such as the market and tailor. He was a quick study, though she kept getting the feeling he was paying far more attention to her than the stores she pointed out. Though not unfamiliar with the male gaze, she felt particularly flustered by him, as someone wholly new to her, and her mutual attraction clouding her thoughts. Dusk was just starting to fall when the tour came to an end at the small inn that sat near the entrance of the village.

“There you have it, Mister Alastor. It’s not much, but it’s home.” She smiled, hands clasped behind her back as she gazed up at him.

“Thank you, Miss Charlotte, for your time this afternoon.” When he smiled back, she felt her heartbeat quicken in her breast, shyly looking away to compose herself. “I don’t suppose I might be able to steal your company tomorrow as well?”

Rocking on the balls of her feet, she tried to contain her excitement. “Well, I suppose in the morning. I must see to the herd tomorrow, you see.”

“Ah, the deer you mentioned.” A too handsome grin spread across his features and she forgot how to breathe. “They must be lucky creatures to be in your care, darling.”

“Oh, you’re teasing me, Mister Alastor.” She squeaked, hands over her burning cheeks. As her eyes darted away, she noticed wrapping around his left hand. “Goodness! Are you hurt?” Gently she reached out for his hand, fingertips grazing along dressing, unaware of the gooseflesh raising along his arm at her touch.

Intense eyes watched her as she fussed over him. “Not to worry, sweetheart, it has been mended.”

“Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Large doe eyes blinked endearingly up at him and he swallowed around the tightness in his throat. “I suppose I should leave you be now, Mister Alastor. Have a good evening!”

“Have a good evening, Miss Charlotte.” He muttered, standing glued to his spot long after she faded from his sight.

Over the course of several months, the shepherdess’s days morphed into a new pattern. In the mornings, Alastor would call on her and they would enjoy a leisurely breakfast together; then he would accompany her on her errands before seeing her off at the edge of the woods. Her afternoons were spent tending to her herd, singing to them as she went about her chores, and taking special care of the new red buck that seemed to enjoy following her everywhere. Gratitude filled her at such a routine that provided her with wonderful company the whole day through.

Alas, not all things last, and it was on one dreary evening that a fight broke out over the supper table. The magistrate had found out about the red stag now in her keeping and had taken it as a bad omen.

“Get rid of it, Charlotte.” Her father snarled. “It is the devil’s work to create bloodstained animals. It could be a wendigo and will kill the villagers if we suffer it to live.”

Vehemently she disagreed, though her father would not hear her, and that night she had cried herself to sleep. When she woke and dressed, it was with a bone chilling panic she realized the door to her bedroom had been locked from the outside. Rushing to her window, she saw her father with some other townsfolk marching off into the forest with pitchforks and muskets. It had taken all her sheets and a few of her dresses to make a rope long enough to descend from her top floor window, but she managed, and it was with a speed she didn’t know she was capable of that she dashed to her clearing.

At the sound of gunshots and screaming, her pace doubled, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest by the time she reached the grazing field. Upon it, she saw a battlefield; many of the men laying dying or wounded, deep and angry gashes ripped through their flesh. The buck stood alone under boughs of the forest canopy, a gaping hole just behind its shoulder, the ebony of its horns dyed red with the blood of the men laid strewn about. Down the barrel of a gun her father stared at the beast, his clothes ruined, but no major injuries. There was no hesitation in her as she saw him lining up his sights, running past him and throwing her hands out wide to stand protectively in front of the buck.

“Get out of the way, Charlotte!” Her father shouted furiously. “That beast is devil spawn if I’ve ever seen one! Look at what it’s done!”

“No!” She argued fiercely. “He was just defending himself, Daddy! You brought this upon the people. He brought no harm upon us.”

Painfully, the wounded started dragging themselves away, retreating to the safety of the village, all the while mumbling about the demon in the wood while father and daughter clashed. Lowering his gun, the magistrate glared at his daughter.

“I am going to see to our folk. If that creature is not gone by tomorrow morning, I will end this nonsense.” He said no more, turning abruptly to help the last of the lingering townsmen.

Tears flowed from her eyes as she tended to the buck’s wounds all afternoon, profusely apologizing and beside herself with grief and confusion on how to proceed. At some point, she had cried herself to sleep, exhausted by the turmoil of the day, her head cushioned on the soft red fur of the stag. She woke to the feeling of weightlessness, heavy eyelids blinking open to see Alastor’s handsome face gazing affectionately down on her as he carried her into the enclosure.

“Am I dreaming, Alastor?” She asked softly, voice thick with sleep.

He chuckled. “No, darling. But, go on back to sleep, Charlotte. I’ve got you.”

For the space of a breath she considered it, but then she took note of the bandage around his shoulder. When he set her down on her bed, she sat up immediately to inspect him. “Heavens! Are you okay? Did the buck get you? Oh, he’s really a good boy. Daddy was in the wrong for attacking him!”

Wine red eyes softened as he gathered her worried hands in one of his, the other tilting her chin up to look at him. “Charlotte…your father is right. It is best if that creature leaves. There’s no telling wha—”

“No!” The passion in her voice caught him by surprise as he blinked garnet eyes at the fire lit within her doe eyes. “I have cared and protected this herd nearly all of my life. I would _know_ if he was bad. He isn’t!”

Without warning, he leaned down to capture her lips. It was a brief meeting before he pulled back, his eyes nearly glowing in their intensity as he watched her cheeks flush and the shivers running through her smaller body. As she was about to question him, he pushed forward again, urgency in his actions as he pushed her down beneath him, licking a hot trail along her throat as he parted her legs.

He mated with her that night, until she was thoroughly breathless and sated. She had been a virgin, tight and sensitive, and it had filled him with egotistical pride to know he was the only male she had known and, if he had his heart’s desire, would be the only flesh she would ever know. Afterward, she had snuggled lovingly close to him as he stroked her back, sending her off to slumber with gentle kisses and sweet nothings.

When the morning’s rays spilled into the paddock, he left her to sleep, leaving briefly to parlay with her father. The magistrate had slapped him on his uninjured shoulder before nodding with a grin and heading back to the town. Alastor fed and watered the deer until his charming doe stirred, even scratching them behind the ears like she would. He was struck by her effortless beauty when she finally stepped outside in her thin nightgown, her golden hair catching in the light like an angelic halo, and the warm light hugging her stunning curves.

“Where is Daddy? Has he come by yet?” She asked, nervously looking about.

“He has come and left already, my darling.” He nodded as he hugged her to him, kissing her affectionately on the top of her head. “I told him I killed the stag.”

Violently she pushed away from him, her dark eyes wide. “Y-You didn’t, did you?!”

Calmly he smiled at her as he leaned against the door frame. “No, of course not, my dear.” Watching her carefully, he continued. “After all, that would be suicide.”

He waited for fear to reflect in her expressive eyes, for revulsion or indignation, yet all that he saw was relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”

Tilting his head curiously, he gave her a lazy grin. “You’re not surprised, my darling? That I am a wendigo?”

“Well, as I said, I’ve been around Cervidae all my life.” She smiled secretively. “I didn’t know what you were, but I knew that red stag was no normal deer.”

Chuckling, his smile turned lopsided in adoration. “I cannot stay here, my sweet doe. The villagers will figure it out sooner or later, and at some point my battle prowess and your valiant safeguards will falter. And I will not risk you coming to harm.”

Apprehensively she approached him, falling into his arms to cuddle to his chest. “I know.”

Kissing the top of her head again, he then tilted her chin up. “Would you come with me, Charlotte? I will cherish you always, my darling. You will want for nothing.”

Musical giggling tumbled from her lips as she smiled widely. “You’re silly for even asking, Alastor. Of course.”

In the tiny hamlet they married, according to her customs, and in the deep of the wood they bound and marked each other, in accordance with his. They only remained for a little while, enough to not arouse suspicion when they eventually departed, some of her herd insisting on following her, much to her delight. Then they left the small village in the snowcapped mountains to begin their new life together.

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 in the books! Out of all the prompts, this is the one that manifested in my brain the clearest. It reminds me of a fairy tale. For my sanity, I tried to keep this under 4k words, but I feel like it could have easily been a longer story. The rating could probably have been TN, but I didn’t want to get my hand slapped for the few sentences referencing sex. 😗💋 Hope everyone enjoys!


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